


The book of excuses

by SeaFever



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Hurt Peter Parker, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Sad Peter Parker, Self-Harm, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:00:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29094642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaFever/pseuds/SeaFever
Summary: It had been going on for months now. Although he wouldn’t admit it, Peter knew that it was getting even more out of control than it had been at the start, he needed more and more pain to satisfy his cravings, and relieve the guilt he was feeling. Since May had died and he’d moved into the compound with Tony and the rest of the avengers, he had began to notice more and more what a burden he was on them, taking up Happy’s time when he had to be dropped off at school, eating their food, and bothering them when they had just gotten home from missions.AKA Peter doesn't realise how much everyone cares for him
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 7
Kudos: 98





	The book of excuses

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first official fic so would ofc be very very grateful for advice or kudos - constructive criticism is always welcome:)  
> Unbeta-ed so all mistakes are unfortunately my own. If anyone would like to volunteer their beta-ing services I'd be very grateful  
> This is mostly a vent fic with some detailed mentions of self harm so please be careful when reading and keep yourselves safe :)  
> -SeaFever

Blood dripped repetitively down his arm onto the worn linoleum of his bathroom floor as he cried, tears mingling with the blood to create a gentle pink colour and a salty sting on his skin. He could hear the words repeated in his head again and again, telling him he was worthless, ugly, and weak, as he dragged the blade across his skin again and again. He needed to blees, needed to feel something other than the guilt that had been overtaking his brain, growing like weeds, persistent and unwanted, strangling all of the hope that he had once felt. The tears continued to stream down his cheeks as he cleaned and bandaged his wounds, ensuring that they wouldn’t get infected, as his healing ability had taken a hit recently, getting do used to the cuts and bruises that his body somehow recognised it as normal, and gave up trying to heal what Peter clearly didn’t want to be healed. He grabbed a cloth from the sink, wiping the blood off the floor, leaving slight streaks of red as he repeated the motion of cleaning that he was so used to by now.  
It had been going on for months now. Although he wouldn’t admit it, Peter knew that it was getting even more out of control than it had been at the start, he needed more and more pain to satisfy his cravings, and relieve the guilt he was feeling. Since May had died and he’d moved into the compound with Tony and the rest of the avengers, he had began to notice more and more what a burden he was on them, taking up Happy’s time when he had to be dropped off at school, eating their food, and bothering them when they had just gotten home from missions. He had hit an all time low when, after getting back from a mission, he’d asked for Steve’s help with a science project and received nothing but an eye roll and a “maybe later, Pete.” From the super soldier.  
It wasn’t difficult to hide anymore. The team was used to him hiding behind long sleeved shirts, and a refusal to wear trousers, excuses of “I’m fine, just cold” and “the long sleeves help block out the sensory input” now commonplace in the building. At this point, his walls were so high that even Ned couldn’t get through them, much to his friends disappointment, and more often than not, Peter was politely refusing Ned’s invitation to build whatever Lego structure he had acquired. Eventually, Ned had stopped asking. Peter told himself it was fine. He didn’t need anyone, didn’t need offers of help, or a shoulder to cry on, and he definitely didn’t need the glances of pity thrown towards him by teachers and students alike, offering sympathy for his aunt, when Peter knew deep down that it was his fault she had died. If he had been a little bit quicker to her rescue, if he had gotten home from school just a few minutes earlier, maybe he could’ve called the ambulance sooner and they would’ve been able to do more to help her. No, he only needed himself and his blade. It was all he deserved.  
Ned had been the first person to say something. After weeks of not talking, they were partnered up for a lab project, and for a few minutes it was like old time, joking around about their teachers and classmates, until Ned had asked Peter to pass him the beaker full of solution, and Peter had done so without even thinking, his shirt sleeve riding up his arm and revealing the red marks on his arm. Ned froze. Peter didn’t even realised until he felt Ned’s chubby fingers grasp his shoulders warmly, a questioning look in his eyes. “Peter,” he breathed, “What happened to your arm? Did someone do this to you?”  
Peter could barely breathe over the sound of his heart racing in his ears, and he did the only thing he could think of. He grabbed his bag and he bolted.  
Sat on the grimy floor of the toilets, he rummaged in his bag to find what he had hidden in there months ago, a razor blade taken from one of May’s unused disposable razors. He let out a huff of laughter as he realised what his life had become, before rolling up his sleeves and dragging the blade over his forearm again and again, getting deeper and deeper with each cut. The voices in his head were telling him he deserved it, Ned was going to be so upset and it was all his fault. He’d fucked up. Again.  
He held his breath when he heard a door opening, and a gentle “Peter?”  
“Peter, I know you’re in here, open the door, please, I’ll break it don’t if I have to, and we both know what happened last time I tried that.” Peter laughed at the memory, before pulling his shirt sleeve down and hiding his arm behind his back, knowing that the blood would have soaked through his sleeve and be visible by now. He unlocked and pulled open the door.  
“Petey, we have to talk about this, this isn’t healthy,” Ned said   
“Ned its all my fault,” Peter cried, leaning into his best friends hug, Ned supporting them both whilst Peter sobbed to him. Ned was still, not knowing what to say to help his friend. He knew Peter would resent him if he told anyone, but he had to tell someone so that Peter could get the help that he needed. He knew that if he had just been there for Peter more, tried to help him what May died, instead of getting frustrated that Peter wasn’t hanging out with him anymore, they might not even be in this situation in the first place.  
Finally, Ned spoke up. “I told Mr Hendricks you were sick, and he told me to take you to the nurse whenever you’re ready. I think we should call Mr Stark and ask him to pick you up.” Ned said.  
“Ned I don’t want to-“  
“I know you don’t want to be a burden, Peter, but you cant stay at school like this. I don’t know how to help you anymore, you have to tell Tony about this.”  
Anger started to grow in Peter’s stomach. How dare Ned try and tell him that he needed help. How could he tell Pete that he wasn’t trying hard enough, ask him to get Mr Stark to spend more money on therapy for him for something that was under control. He deserved this. It was his fault May and Ben were dead, and Ned was trying to make Mr Stark hate him as well? He couldn’t ask Mr Stark for help, he didn’t deserve it.  
“If you don’t tell him, I will.” Ned said, holding open the door of the bathroom for Peter to make his way to the nurses office.  
Peter shoved past him roughly, pushing him into the wall behind him, not giving himself time to feel guilty over hurting his only friend. As the bell rang and swarms of kids made their way to their next classes, Peter managed to lose Ned in the crowds and escape through the front door of the crowds.  
Hours later he was on top of his and May’s old apartment building in his suit, mask discarded somewhere beside him. He was so ashamed that someone had found out about him. So ashamed that it had been Ned of all people, and he had just gone and pushed him away, like the horrible friend he always had been. At least now Ned knew what a bad person Peter was. At least he would stay away from him and not try to help anymore. Peter pulled his bag closer from where he had ditched it as soon as he got up here, and pressed the button on his chest to decompress the suit, peeling his arms out of the sleeves and responding the same way he did every time he fucked up and deserved punishment. He cut. His hands unconsciously found their way to his shoulders, his arms, his thighs, everywhere he could reach dragging his blade over skin again and again and again, until he was covered in his own blood, ribbons of it running down his chest, shiny and dark and stick against his hands. He was up there for so long that he didn’t even know the time anymore, his phone in his bag next to him ringing until it was out of charge, sending whoever was trying so desperately to get a hold of him straight to voicemail. Once the bleeding had all but stopped, he put his suit back on, cursing himself for not bring any gauze or bandages to protect the suit from being damaged or stained by his blood. He put his mask back on and stood up, his arms flailing wildly as he was overcome with a sudden dizziness. Karen’s voice was ringing in his ears, telling him he needed medical attention, asking if he wanted to call Mr Stark. He decided m=not to. After all of the problems he had caused Mr Stark he didn’t want him to find out about this. Not that he would have cared anyway. Peter took a moment to steady himself before leaning off of the building and catching himself only at the last moment with his web shooters. He swung himself all the way to the compound, and tried to swing in through his bedroom door, only to find it was locked. He tried not to panic. He could go through the front doors, tell whoever he saw that he had been patrolling, as long as he kept his suit on, nobody would find out. Sneaking away from his window as quietly as possible, he made his way down to the front entrance and removed his mask in order to allow the face scanning technology to let him in. As soon as he stepped through the doors, he was greeted with a stern faced Mr Stark and a worried Ned. His stomach dropped as the two looked at him.  
“Thank you for letting me know, Ned. You should go home to your parents, I’m sure they’re waiting up for you.” Mr Stark instructed, having not even greeted Peter yet.  
“Thank you Mr Stark, bye Peter” Ned replied in a small voice, leaving as quickly as he could through the front doors, where Happy was waiting next to his car to drive Ned home. Despite the situation, Peter felt his stomach twist in jealousy. Happy usually only put up with driving him around. His heart sunk as he watched Ned get into the car and Happy greet him with a smile. His brain started to tell him how worthless and annoying he was. Maybe Mr Happy would like him more if he just shut up when he was told to, instead of rambling on about anything and everything that came into his mind.  
It wasn’t until he heard Mr Stark clear his throat gently that he turned around to face the problem at hand.   
“Hey, kid, Ned tells me that there’s something you need to tell me?” Tony asked, “He didn’t say what it was, only that it was serious, and you needed help. You have to know that you aren’t a burden Peter, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”   
Peter’s stomach twisted. He wanted so badly to tell the older man what was happening but he didn’t deserve help. He pressed a hand into the still open cuts on his stomach, the pain reminding him that he had to do this. He deserved the pain, he deserved to lose Ned, he deserved it all.  
And so with a small smile, he told Mr Stark that he had been struggling with his school work. That Ned had been worried because Peter had had a panic attack over some lab work the other day, but he was fine, and it was a one time thing.   
“I’m glad you’re okay, Pete, but you understand you can talk to me about anything right? I’m always here for you, no matter how big the problem is,” Mr Stark said.  
Peter nodded and started to head off to his room.  
“Woah, woah, you’re not going anywhere just yet kiddo. I want to understand why you didn’t answer my calls earlier. And why I had a call from the school saying you weren’t in 5th period. You had me worried. I told them you’d come home sick but I want a real explanation.”  
“I’m sorry Mr Stark, I just wanted to be alone. There’s a park that me and May used to visit and I was really missing her today.” He lied smoothly, Stark seeming to believe him. The older man offered him a hug, before shooing the boy off to bed.  
The next morning, as Happy drove him into school, Peter made sure he was his usual talkative self. He couldn’t have anyone else being concerned about him and talking to Mr Stark, his lie last night had barely been believable, even to himself. When he got out of the car, he saw Ned waiting anxiously at the front gates.  
“Hey Peter! Did you tell Mr Stark yesterday?”. Peter nodded at Ned. “Thank you Ned, I’m sorry I pushed you yesterday. But Mr Stark says that he’s going to get me some professional counselling so that I can get better. And its all because of you.” The lie came easily to Peter, concerningly so, and Him and Ned walked to class together for the first time in weeks.  
That night was a good night. Him and Mr Stark sat on the sofa in the common room and binge watched Brooklyn 99 together, occasionally joined for a few minutes by other members of the team, each of them stopping to pat Peter’s head for a few seconds, and maybe nick some popcorn, before they left to do whatever it is that they did in their spare time.  
Peter woke up that night screaming and sweating. He had never been more thankful for the compound’s soundproof walls. He tried to calm his heartrate down, taking deep breaths and ignoring the residual images of a dead Tony Stark inside his arms that lingered from his dream. Reaching to the other side of his bed, Peter grabbed his bag and found his blade. Whispering an apology to Tony for cutting in his sanctuary, he made his way to the bathroom and slowly dragged the blades across his skin. He couldn’t believe that he had been so stupid as to think he could help anyone. Somehow the dream managed to reawaken his fears of being inadequate, and being worthless. He cut deeper and deeper with each cut, thankful for the fact that Friday didn’t have cameras or sensors in the bathroom, and couldn’t alert anyone to his pain. He was losing a lot of blood. Even with what should have been enhanced healing, he wasn’t healing quick enough. He started to panic. He knew that he deserved to die, but he couldn’t have Mr Stark be the one to find him, he always imagined that it would be some other poor person who had to deal with his body, he had never wanted to make more trouble for the man than he already had. He tried to put pressure on the wounds, bandaging them up as tightly as possible without cutting off his blood circulation, and stumbled out to his bedroom.  
“Mr Parker you appear to be severely injured. Would you like me to call Mr Stark?”  
“No, no, I’ll be okay Fri, I just need to sleep it off.”  
And with that, Peter pulled on a long sleeved bed shirt over his bandages, and crashed onto the bed.  
He awoke to a loud banging on the door. “Peter? Pete, Friday said you were in distress last night, are you okay?”   
Peter sat up in his bed, dizziness clouding his brain, just as Mr Stark practically burst through the door. He hurriedly threw the blankets over his lower half, before Mr Stark got a little closer.  
“Kid is that…blood on the blankets? Are you injured?”  
“I’m fine Mr Stark, just had a nosebleed last night is all.”  
“Pete, you’ve got blood on your sleeve as well. Come on, take that shirt off and we’ll get you cleaned up.”  
Peter almost threw himself across the room, trying so hard to get away from Mr Stark that he didn’t even think that the man might be a little suspicious that he was trying so desperately to prevent the man from seeing him shirtless, when he’d seen it plenty of times before when Pete had been injured during a mission or when they’d been making adjustments to the suit.  
“Get out of my room.” He mumbled, almost inaudible to Tony.  
“No can do, Spidey. You’ve clearly injured yourself beyond a nosebleed. I know you haven’t been quite right recently, and I just want to help you with whatever is ging on with you. You’re my responsibility now.” And before Peter could blink, the older man had crossed the room and gently grasped at Peter’s forearms.  
“Please don’t do this. You’ll only hurt both of us. Please.” Peter could hear his voice breaking and it was all he could do to stop himself from crying.  
“I’m sorry kid.” Mr Stark muttered, before pushing Peter’s sleeve up, gasping when he saw the bloody bandages underneath. “Holy crap kid, what happened?” he looked up at Peter’s face, shocked to see the boy crying silently. “Listen, I think we need to get you to the medbay for this okay? Brucey can help fix you up proper and we can talk about what actually happened, okay?”  
Peter nodded, silent hiccups wracking his body.   
The walk to medbay felt like the longest walk ever, and when they finally arrived, Bruce was there waiting, a placating smile on his face. “Okay Peter, I’m just going to get these bandages off for you, and then we can see what we’re dealing with. Peter just nodded, having resigned himself to the knowledge that he would be kicked out as soon as they saw. When Dr Banner peeled the bandages off, however, him and Mr Stark just exchanged a small glance. There was complete silence whilst Dr Banner was stitching Peter up, and after what felt like forever, he placed a comforting hand on Peter’s shoulder and left the two to talk.  
“Oh kiddo,” he sighed, pulling the boy into a hug and running his hands through his hair. Peter cried harder, sobs wracking his small frame, “I need help Mr Stark. I’m sorry” Tony just held him closer as he began to cry himself.  
“I’ll do whatever it takes Peter. I’ll get you whatever help you need to be happy again” he promised.  
“I love you Mr Stark.”  
“Yeah, you too, kid.”  
And things weren’t okay. Neither of them even knew if things would ever be okay again, but they both knew that they would try, and that was the best they could do at that point.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading if you made it this far - and if you didn't. I feel like it got a little sloppy towards the end because I didn't really know how to end it but hopefully practise will make perfect :)


End file.
